Happily Ever All-Star: A Secret Baby Romance - Sosie Frost Page 0,35

you five minutes. You have until I finish this snow cone before I—”

The ice dripped in the sun. A stream of blue syrup cut through the middle, and the rounded top slid as one giant mound. I tilted my wrist to steady the impending slide.

But the avalanche buried me under the ice.

It wasn’t my life passing before my eyes—it was Jude’s.

This was his fault!

The snow cone crumbled on my chest as I juggled phone, paper cup, and my dignity in an unsuccessful fight against the cruelest of fates. The ice splattered onto my white blouse, tie-dying it into every color of the rainbow.

My breast was strawberry. My nipple watermelon. My navel blue raspberry.

And over the baby, a nice patch of pineapple.

I didn’t even like pineapple.

I grabbed the phone. The slippery, syrupy remnants stained the cover, but I didn’t need a good grip to shout into the cell. My mood shifted into a rage that wasn’t anywhere as dangerous to my health as it was Jude’s.

“Get back here now!”

I doubted that I needed the phone. My voice probably carried over all of Ironfield.

I seethed for only five minutes when the flash of an orange Jeep spun into the lot. Jude’s tires squealed as he drove like a maniac to meet me.

If he wasn’t careful, he might have hit someone with his car.

If I didn’t get behind the wheel and run him down first.

Phillip barked from the passenger seat. He sat on a lamp shade. At least the dog hadn’t eaten yet either.

“Rory, I am so sorry.” Jude raced to my side. He frowned. “What happened to—”

“I got iced!” I gritted my teeth. “What the hell, Jude? You forgot about me?”

“Rory, I had a long day—”

“Me too!” I held my arms out. Phillip hopped from the car to diligently clean the stickiness from my hands. “I’m tired. I’m hot. I look like I spent the night at Woodstock. How could you forget me?”

Jude panicked. “I’m sorry, Doc. What can I do to make it up to you? This morning you were happy. What did I do then?”

“You gave me a ride!”

“Wait!” He pulled out his wallet. “I also gave you money. You liked lunch. Let me buy you dinner.”

“You can’t buy me off. Jude, I’m a smart, successful…” I gasped. “Hyperventilating neurologist. You owe me more than a stop through the drive-through. I can’t believe you’d be so inconsiderate.”

“I wasn’t. I swear.” He reached for me. I batted his hand away. “Look, Doc, I never take women home.”

He shoved a twenty in my hand as he said it. Great. We’d get arrested for assumed prostitution too.

“Rory,” he said. “I’m always alone. I’ve always been alone. I’ve never been lucky enough to have someone want to come home with me.”

“You have an odd way of making me feel welcome.”

He ruffled his hair, loose and wild. His rushed breath ached my heart. He really was upset.

“I know it’s just a fake relationship,” he said. “But you’re still my friend, and I want to protect you. I blew it. I’m sorry. I promise. I didn’t forget about you—I forgot how lucky I was to have you.”

The anger dissipated as he took my hand. I gave him a slight smile.

Jude frowned. “I left you alone for half an hour. Why do you look like you jacked off a unicorn?”

“I got hungry.”

“And missed your mouth?”

“This is your fault.”

Jude pulled me into a hug. “I know. What can I do to make it up to you?”

He rubbed the soreness from my back. That was a good start. “I need a ride.”

In more ways than one. He grinned.

“Your chariot awaits,” he said. “Once we get home, I’ll make sure you feel like a princess again.”

“Promise?”

“Just call me Prince Charming.”

I wasn’t looking for a fairy-tale, just a way to make sure my ever-after came out happy.

And with Jude? A girl could have her dreams come true.

8

Rory

I couldn’t do this.

I stared at the door to my step-mother’s house armed with only a chicken and broccoli casserole. The dish was the passport I needed to return to this particular, war-torn homeland. Inside, battles weren’t fought with fists and artillery, but pride, criticism, and a healthy dose of denial.

I liked denial. Denial meant I could hide the baby. I’d cross my legs. Pretend I found a child in a box on the sidewalk. It worked for kittens. Why not kids?

What’s this? A baby? Well…I suppose I have room in the house…has she been spayed and microchipped yet?

Jude nudged my side. “Gonna knock?”

“Nope.”

“We’ve stood